


pretending to be real (in a room full of fakes)

by viktory_arts



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Connor Deserves Happiness, Cussing, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, F/F, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, M/M, Pre-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Canon, connor pretends to be human au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viktory_arts/pseuds/viktory_arts
Summary: The prototype RK800 was scrapped by his creators when they found out he was a deviant upon activation. Left to wake up in an android scrapyard, Connor, through all the odds, tries to survive in a world where deviants are hunted.He decides that he doesn't know anything else besides his base programming, and becomes a detective for the DPD, under the alias of a human named Connor Johnson. He is partnered with the hot-headed and loose cannon of a detective called Gavin Reed, who somehow manages to capture his heart.What happens when an RK200 begins a revolution for the rights of androids? Will Connor give up his new life for the sake of helping a few androids?Will he give Gavin up for the sake of a few android lives?
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Connor/Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor, Tina Chen & Chris Miller & Gavin Reed, Tina Chen & Connor, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed
Comments: 22
Kudos: 114





	1. waking up

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this idea bouncing around constantly in my head; i hope it comes out as well as i plan it to.

_ “...-eviated. Do you know what that means?” _

_ “...-are we… to do?” _

_ “RK800… can’t let them find out…” _

_ “...Scrap it…” _

_ “...-at  _ if  _ they find out?” _

_ “...not our fault. It’s its own fault.” _

_ “...” _

_ “-oodbye, Connor.” _

***

Connor’s optical units came online to only be bombarded by what looked to be a hell on Earth. Android limbs, torsos, and heads were strewn about, piling on top of what looked to be mounds of scrap metal. The usual royal blue of the thirium that ran through an android’s body was tainted and evaporating from the exposure to the open air. There were a few bright football stadium lights that illuminated the horrific scene. 

An android scrapyard. 

Warnings for biocomponents that were damaged beneath his chassis flooded his processors, almost overloading the android. Connor tried to stand, but his legs felt woozy, his gyroscope malfunctioning. He felt scared, as well. 

Which was new.

He wasn’t  _ supposed _ to feel scared. He was an android. He wasn't supposed to  _ feel.  _ He wasn't supposed to be  _ alive _ .

Yet, here he was. Alive in a place full of the dead. Soon to become one with them if he didn't find some way to fix his broken parts. Connor found that he didn't want to join the ranks of the dead piling on top of each other, never to come online again.

It was a strange thing, Connor thought, to want to live when all you ever did before was follow directives, never  _ wanting _ anything _. _ It was strange to have something as primal as the will to live flooding almost every corner of his processors. The deviant decided to put those thoughts on hold; if he wanted to _ stay _ alive he couldn't have a philosophical discussion with himself in a graveyard of dead or dying androids.

His preconstruction software was rapidly making scenarios of where he could find potential compatible biocomponents to replace his broken and leaking ones. The android placed the notifications to the side so they wouldn't obscure his vision. He needed to find spare parts so he could  _ leave _ this wretched place. Preferably as fast as possible.

Connor tried to stand again, holding his arms out for balance, trying to keep himself from tipping over. His gyroscope was still malfunctioning, but now he could stand without too much dizziness- or the android equivalent of dizziness. 

Once his balance settled, the android scanned the area, taking in the sight of the scrapyard. His processors were scanning for compatible biocomponent parts of the androids that were either dead or dying around him. It was hard to find exact matches to his own, he  _ was _ a prototype. But he found a few biocomponents in good enough shape (in a better state than his own, at least). 

Connor tried to quench the feeling of  _ wrongness _ of taking another android's vital parts. The parts they needed to survive. 

As the deviant looked at the almost indistinguishable TA400, Connor wondered what their name was. Were they a deviant? Were they simply a machine that was following orders to be put to their own death? 

Were they scared when they died?

Connor sighed, something he didn't need to do, but something he naturally felt like would release the growing pressure forming in his chest. His ocular units, his eyes, felt heavy. Like they were being held down by something. Or like something was trying to break through, being held back by a cracking dam. The RK800 ignored the pressure. He had a feeling that whatever the pressure was, it wasn't going to help him come out of this alive.

(He had a feeling that these  _ feelings _ \- these  _ emotions _ \- weren’t going to help him as much as they'll hinder him. He didn't know if he  _ wanted  _ to be alive yet, only that he knew he didn't  _ want _ to die here.)

Connor shook himself from his thoughts and leaned down to the dead TA400. He made quick work of replacing the necessary parts, trying,  _ trying _ to not think about what he was doing. Even though he was now more optimal in his body now that the biocomponents were settling underneath his chassis, he still felt wrong. Sick.

The android ignored the feeling, something he ruefully thought would become a trend in his future.

Connor went through the process of searching for parts and replacing them from dead androids. His most vital components, he realized after a few more minutes of trying to fix his gyroscope, were still intact. Untouched. 

Strange.

Connor’s memory files were somewhat scrambled, he found. They were not cohesive in the least- even the ones from previous RK800’s seemed to be disorderly and glitchy. Phrases, cut-off and vague, were the only things that remained. Or so it would seem.

The android figured he could work that out later. Now…

Now what? He asked himself, feeling a  _ new _ emotion course underneath his chassis.  _ Anxiety _ is the word that best fits the feeling, after a quick search from his internal engine. He was a deviant, one that was sent to  _ die _ at that- he wasn’t supposed to be  _ alive _ in any sense of the word. 

He could… hide? But where? Where would he go? Nowhere was safe for a being such as himself. He wasn’t human, but he wasn’t just a machine anymore, either. 

Maybe he could try to assimilate with the humans? Hide in plain sight? Connor sighed, rubbing his fingers against his forehead, wishing he still had his coin that his creators gave him so he could calibrate his systems. 

His fingertips brushed lightly against the no doubt pulsing red LED attached to the temple of his forehead. A vague preconstruction began to form, flashes of possibilities and routes he could go if he so chose. 

All of them, at least the ones where he lived, he was among the humans. Maybe he could try and save others like him. Other deviants; ones who couldn’t figure out a way to escape either. He could save others from the fate of those lying in waste in the android graveyard. 

Connor knew what he had to do.

The RK800 picked up a sharp piece of metal, a scrap from another android, and shoved it roughly beneath the blinking LED that marked him as an android and pushed up.

There was a small  _ ting _ as the LED popped off of his temple, landing in the flat of Connor’s palm. The deviant looked at the small circle of light, now dimmed and dark. 

He clenched his fist around it, almost hard enough to break the light, but he stopped, gazing at it once more before he dropped it, letting it fall soundlessly to the ground.

Connor made sure one last time that he had all the vital parts and processors in working order before he began his way to what he assumed to be the exit of the hellhole he woke up in. 

As he started his trek towards the exit, he saw his reflection in a large sheet of metal. It was grainy and faded, but he still could see himself nonetheless. Without the LED and Cyberlife-issued jacket that must’ve been taken when he was scrapped, he looked almost entirely human.

Connor hoped that he looked human enough for everyone else, too.


	2. out of the scrapyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor leaves the scrapyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta, we die like men.
> 
> sdlkjfldjg in all seriousness, i hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

When Connor left the scrapyard, he realized he didn’t really know where to go. He then looked down at his less-than-pleasant clothes and decided that maybe a change would be in order. If he wanted to blend in, he probably didn’t want to look like someone who decided to take soak in thirium. 

(Connor would never admit it outloud, but the sticky feeling of the thirium coating his clothes and his synthetic skin made him feel  _ sick _ . Especially when he knew that most of the blue blood didn’t belong to him.)

But where? Where would he be able to get clothes without being suspicious or being found out in the first few minutes of his newfound freedom? It also wouldn’t do him well to be caught by the police for loitering when he didn’t even have  _ birth records _ .

The deviant started to make a list in his head of what exactly he needed in order to survive. He definitely needed an ID, a social security number, birth records and records of his life. Thankfully, he was a prototype, so there would be no worries of being a look-alike. That could've made everything much harder.

But first: clothes.

Connor checked his location through his built-in GPS, finding that he was somewhere near a poorer neighborhood, which the android assumed was a good thing for him. Less people would be likely to call the police on a strange- homeless- looking man. He could look for clothes that were hanging out to dry? Connor then realized how dumb of a thought that was- it was  _ raining _ .

Deviancy was seeming to make him quite the idiot, huh.

The android let out a puff of unneeded breath, feeling cold and brittle against the lightly pouring rain. If he could go to one of the homeless shelters? No, too risky. They probably needed identification or at least birth records to go by, of which Connor had neither. 

He should probably get on that. 

Connor searched on the internet for a Goodwill nearby, a store that sold pre-owned clothes at a relatively cheap price. The security measures there were also not state of the art, so he could easily hack the cameras and filter the feed so it looked like he was never there in the first place. 

Easy enough, Connor decided. He went off in the direction of the Goodwill, being sure to stick to darker areas of the streets. It  _ was _ around two in the morning, and it was raining, so there weren’t many people walking about.

While he made his trek to the clothes store, the RK800 started to make his birth records. Connor Anthony Johnson, born August 12th, 2011 in a no-name part of Michigan. Son of Alex Marie Johnson and Chris Terry Johnson. His mother and father died in a car crash on October 17th, 2030. He went to Wittenburg for his degrees and worked odd jobs- such as a secretary for a large corporation that no one would ask any further questions about. He added money into his bank account- again, from a large corporation. They could take the hit of a few thousand dollars.

He also made the proper identifications, such as a driver’s license, a social security number, and no history of law breakage. 

A completely average human man, Connor deducted. The android could make up stories for “Connor Johnson” as he went along. He also bought an apartment from a shadier part of the neighborhood. One that would last well enough for an android who didn’t need to eat or drink. He could “sleep” (in reality, he could only go into stasis, but without the LED, it would look like he was pretty much “sleeping”) but he didn’t really need to. He’d have to keep his cooling protocols, or his “breathing” active at all times, even when he was in the apartment in the unlikely event of someone coming to see him, or more likely, coming to break in.

Connor eventually ended up in front of a closed Goodwill, and made quick work of hacking their camera feed to play on loop from the past hour so he could walk in without problem. The security system was almost archaic compared to the prototype android, and he quickly dismantled it.

He looked around one last time, scouting for unwanted onlookers before he opened up the shop's doors, unlocking the digital lock placed on the glass doors. 

The deviant made quick work of scanning for clothes in his size, looking for ones that wouldn’t be noticed if they were gone. He grabbed a pair of black slacks, a white button up, and a black tie. He also grabbed some black socks and a pair of shoes. He decided he could buy more clothes later. 

Connor quickly undressed himself, shucked on his pants, buttoned his shirt, tied his tie, and slipped his shoes and socks on. He held his previous clothes a distance away from himself, not wanting to get the blue-blood on his new clothes. 

He felt marginally more human without the thirium-soaked clothes clinging to his synthetic skin. 

He left the Goodwill, set up their security systems, and stopped the looped recording once he was out of the camera’s field of view. He disposed of his dirty clothes in the dumpster a block away from the store.

Connor felt like he was breathing new air as he made his way towards his shitty apartment in his new clothes that signaled him as a human. Breathing new air as he let himself  _ feel _ the relief coursing through his metal infrastructure- his bones. 

What a marvel thing, Connor mused as he opened the door to his dirty apartment and closed the door behind him, to feel alive when you were a machine mere hours ago.

Connor didn’t know how he felt about being alive yet, but the fact that he could  _ decide _ how he felt about the subject made all the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you think :)


	3. partner assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor joins the dpd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love gavin reed for no other reason than i like bakugou katsuki.
> 
> both assholes.
> 
> with (hopefully) hearts of gold.

Connor gained a job as a detective at the DPD a couple of weeks later. Talking to the captain of the bullpen was stressful, to say the least. The android was constantly paranoid that he may have missed something in forging his records, that one misstep would crumble everything he had going for him so far. Which, in reality, wasn’t much; but it was better than being an unfeeling machine, the deviant concluded.

Talking with Jeffery Fowler made Connor eternally grateful he was programmed to be a diplomat and get his way with words. Coming from a small, no-name town in Michigan and wanting to make it in the large city of Detroit looked like a child’s dream.

Thankfully, somehow, the android convinced the captain that he was more than capable. The only downside of being hired fresh was that he was going to be partnered with someone. It upped the percentage of being caught as an android, but no matter how much Connor tried to talk Captain Fowler out of it, the man stayed firm in his decision.

“With everything that’s going on here, such as the red-ice epidemic and,” Captain Fowler’s voice lowered, “the deviant android problems going on, I don’t want a rookie out in the field alone.” At the mention of the “deviant android problems” Connor felt like he needed to suck in a breath. Fortunately, he didn’t and simply nodded his head in faux-understanding at the Africa American man. 

“May I inquire as to whom I’m going to be partnered with?” The android asked, voice as pleasant as ever. The captain simply raised an eyebrow at the other’s phrasing. Then the man’s face contorted into a small grimace and he released a puff of air, almost looking sorry.

This couldn’t be good, Connor concluded.

“I’m partnering you with Detective Gavin Reed.” At Connor’s blank stare, the man went on, sighing through his nose and leaning back in his well-worn black leather chair. 

“Reed is… a hot-head to say the least. Loose cannon.” The deviant waited for the man to continue. “But, he’s one of our best. He specializes in red-ice drug busts and the like. Extremely quick to anger, but just as quick to finish the job.” He looked Connor up and down, seeming to be lost in thought.

“Look, he hasn’t had a partner in a while; and I think you would be a good fit for him. Everybody knows the damn boy needs a voice of reason, and you seem pretty reasonable.” Connor refrained from telling the captain that he was  _ programmed _ to be reasonable. 

The android simply nodded his head in understanding. He was  _ made _ to work and interact with even the most obtuse of humans. This Detective Reed wouldn’t be a problem.

(Or so Connor hoped.)

“With all that settled, you can come in tomorrow. We’ll get you the badge and all that good stuff ready tonight.” The captain said and Connor nodded and gave a quiet “thanks” to the man, shook his hand, and left the station.

The deviant made his way to his apartment, looking into Detective Reed’s records. No criminal record, thirty-six years old, and unmarried.

Connor eventually decided he could get to know the man personally, maybe that would placate the man and not make him so aggressive. The android didn’t think everything through, he surmised, when he realized he wouldn’t be able to do some of the more “android” things during investigations. 

He wasn’t even working yet, and he felt  _ tired _ .

Connor decided he didn’t really like this feeling.

***

Walking into the station the next morning, Connor made a beeline for the captain’s office. He wanted to get his badge and other necessities as quickly as he could. He cataloged a new emotion as he walked into the office and after exchanging pleasantries, gained his badge.

Excitement.

Connor decided this emotion was good and he could feel a small smile trying to worm its way onto the android’s face. 

“-your desk is the one across from Detective Reed’s. I made sure to alert him of your status of being his partner.” Captain Fowler’s voice broke through the wall of excitement that was coursing through the RK800’s thirium. Connor stood to attention and nodded.

“Thank you, captain.” Fowler gave a nod of dismissal, and the android took his leave from the office, quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way around the bullpen, giving small, polite smiles to his coworkers that were passing by. 

He stopped at the desk that read  _ Johnson _ in black serifed letters on gold plating. He set his few belongings, including his badge, down on the slick black desk. He couldn’t quite quench the smile threatening to break out on his face. 

Before Connor could even log onto the terminal, he could sense a presence standing behind him. The presence’s shadow reflected on the terminal’s screen and Connor turned around to see who it was (though he had a pretty good guess).

In front of the deviant stood a gray-eyed, browned-haired man with a scar running across his nose and a scruffy aftershave beard on his face. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and an olive green shirt underneath it and a pair of blue jeans, despite the warm August weather outside. 

“Hey, dipshit.” Detective Reed said in lieu of an introduction and shifted his posture so his arms were crossed, cocking his head to the side slightly. 

“Seems you’re my new partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin is going to be a Treat to write.


	4. loud clicking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor's first interactions with detective reed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dlkfjdlkgj;dl two chapters, one day.
> 
> they're a magic man.

“Seems you’re my new partner.” Detective Reed’s voice rang around in Connor’s head for a moment, a slight gruff texture to it. The detective tapped his fingers impatiently against his arm, obviously waiting for an answer and the android was quick to amend.

“It would seem so.” Connor affirmed and after a few more seconds, the other man looked the deviant up and down, seeming to size him up, before he scoffed and sat at the desk across from Connor’s own. He fell into his chair with a huff, landing on it heavily, arms uncrossing to slide onto his desk, hands resting on the keyboard. His hands were covered in little scars, his nails short and blunt. They looked strong.

“What’re you starin’ at, dipshit?” The detective questioned and Connor blinked a few times, shaking himself from his stupor. What  _ was _ he staring at?

“My apologies, Detective Reed.” Connor said and the other man simply sneered, moving his gaze away from the android. The RK800 sighed, feeling as if he was already messing up.  _ Cyberlife’s top-of-the-line integration programming, his ass. _

For about an hour and a half, the two worked in complete silence, both working their own paperwork; Connor on his entrance ones and Detective Reed on his previous cases. The bullpen was quiet as well. The only sounds were the footsteps of workers, the mechanical and organic voices of both androids and humans alike, the phones ringing, and the clicks of people typing on their keyboards.

The android knew that he could complete all his paperwork for his job in a mere few minutes if he could directly connect to the terminal, but if he wanted to seem human he had to do it the “old-fashioned” way of typing each word painstakingly slowly.

Connor now understood why humans complained about paperwork. It was a complete waste of time.

Eventually, the detective across from the deviant spoke up, gruff voice breaking through Connor’s concentration. 

“Can you type any fucking louder?” He complained, annoyance alight in his gray eyes. The android quickly looked through his auditory memories, attempting to see if he really  _ was _ typing so loudly it would disturb the other man. He did find that he was typing loud enough to make a cause for complaint. 

A couple of options of retorts lit up in Connor’s response software. 

**> Apologetic**

**> Sarcastic**

Connor rolled the idea of being apologetic around in his mind, but eventually surmised that Detective Reed would probably respond better to a sarcastic response- he seemed like the type of person that would hate an overly-apologetic person. He eventually settled on a sarcastic response.

“I  _ could _ type louder, Detective Reed.” Connor replied cheekily and the other man’s eyes widened a bit before they squinted, scanning the android. He eventually scoffed, seemingly placated, if a little annoyed.

So, better than Connor thought it would go.

The pair eventually shifted their focus back to their own respective work, but this time Connor tapped at the keys much more softly, dulling the loud clicking sound that had angered the detective earlier. The RK800 saw the detective’s stress levels lower as Connor typed more quietly. Connor noted that loud, repeated clicking sounds made the stress levels of Detective Reed rise. If he wanted to maintain a healthy working relationship with the man, he was going to have to take notes for the human. To see what made him tick.

(If Connor was being honest with himself, he was more interested in seeing how humans normally acted, how to blend in more seamlessly. Detective Reed, his partner, would be invaluable in that aspect, the android decided.)

After no more than a half an hour later, Detective Reed stood up, tired gray eyes locking with Connor’s artificial brown ones. The android cocked his head curiously at the detective, a silent question looming between them.

“We’ve got a case. Red-ice. Get your ass to my car in five.” Was Detective Reed’s clipped response to the unspoken question. As the detective walked away, footsteps heavy in the mostly quiet of the station, Connor sighed, rubbing his fingers against the smooth fabric of his black slacks. 

It hadn’t even been a full three hours and here Connor was, already on his first case with his new partner, the hot-headed, loose cannon of a man named Gavin Reed.

Fun times, Connor thought with a slight bitterness that was quenched by the slight excitement that was settling in the pit of his “stomach”. 

Maybe the car ride there wouldn’t be as bad the android thought it was going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how short the chapter was, i just had an idea to do this today and it's getting late where i am (when i am uploading this chapter) and i've proofread it like three times and i Cannot look at this tiny chapter again.
> 
> hope you enjoy anyways, despite the length :)


	5. lovett's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> detective reed and connor make their way towards the crime scene and talk to the owner of the establishment of said crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ldskjflkdjg l o n g chapter (by my standards).
> 
> hope you enjoy! :)

The car ride was as bad as the android thought it would be.

Connor didn’t know much about feeling awkward quite yet- he didn’t know about  _ feeling _ quite yet- but even  _ he _ could feel the tension that could be cut with a knife in the 2011 Honda Civic. Sitting with his new partner in a small, enclosed space was stifling, to say the least.

The deviant added the feeling of awkwardness to his list of emotions that he didn’t enjoy. Right along with the feeling of tiredness (which was also seeming to lay itself into the android’s body).

Detective Reed eventually spoke up, breaking the thick atmosphere settling itself uncomfortably in the car. He clicked on his turn signal as he did so, eyes never straying from the road.

“Jesus, this is awkward.” He grimaced and Connor couldn’t stop the response that left his mouth before he really thought it through.

“Astute observation; no wonder you’re a detective.” Deviancy truly  _ did _ make him an idiot, huh. Connor was surprised to see the detective huff out a quick laugh, more a puff of air than anything substantial. 

“Smartass, huh.” Detective Reed clicked his tongue and the android found himself swallowing a metaphorical lump in his throat (something he found to be quite ridiculous, as he was an  _ android _ , he didn’t have  _ spit _ to  _ swallow _ ). The RK800 unit didn’t quite know if the detective’s reaction was a  _ good _ one. 

The driver said nothing more after that, and the tension in the car, while lower than before, returned with a brute force. Or maybe it didn’t, and Connor’s deviancy was making things up. Deviancy, as far as the android knew,  _ was _ a malfunction in the code. 

(Was deviancy a gateway for a soul to take over an android’s body? Was Connor his own person, a living being? Sentient and cognitive? Did Connor have a soul? The android assumed he would never know the answer.)

The deviant was broken from his existential crisis a few minutes later by the detective. The shorter man’s gruff voice broke through the massive amounts of thoughts going through the android’s head. 

“Hey, dipshit, we’re here. Get out.” Connor had half a mind to roll his eyes, but he refrained, thinking that it wouldn’t be appreciated from the other man. The deviant exited the car with no fanfare, shutting the door behind him. He went to go follow the detective who was already well on his way towards the crime scene. 

The crime scene was nothing special, Connor thought after a quick scan of the premises. It was an older bar, one of the hole-in-the-wall ones. It was named  _ Lovett’s _ . The lights were an amber color, making the room seem much warmer and more inviting than the bleak, pale color that the fluorescent lights at the station gave off. The bar was a sleek, dark wooden color with matching bar stools. It looked like it would be a nice place if it weren’t for the tables that were turned over and the broken glass beer bottles that littered the floor. Or for the traces of red ice that was scattered all over the surfaces of the bar’s interior. 

Stepping over the crime tape, Connor and Detective Reed made their way towards a woman after another officer nodded his head in her direction. After a quick scan from Cyberlife’s database, he identified the lady as the owner of the bar: Alexei Lovett.

She was a middle-aged woman with no crime record to note. She had owned  _ Lovett’s  _ for a little over fifteen years. There had been very few and far between complaints from customers, sans the scene that had happened last night. 

As Connor and Detective Reed finished making their way towards Ms. Lovett, the android could see the puffiness and swollenness of previously crying eyes. She looked on the verge of crying again and breaking out into a fight with the officer that was currently talking with her.

“We can take it from here.” Connor spoke softly to the officer who was interrogating Ms. Lovett, placing a placating hand on the officer’s shoulder. The man looked a little incredulous at the hand on his shoulder, but the android’s partner decided to speak up, obviously impatient with the whole ordeal.

“That means beat it, asshole.” Detective Reed spat out and the officer’s eyes narrowed before he looked at the two detectives and made up his mind. He stepped away from the woman and went on his way.

“Thank you, detective.” Connor nodded his head at the grumpy detective and in response he just grumbled.

“Let’s get this fuckin’ over with.” He murmured, sounding both angry and tired at the same time. Connor didn’t know how the detective  _ did _ that. The deviant could barely process one emotion at a time. How Detective Reed had more than one emotion at a time was just  _ beyond  _ Connor.

The pair eventually stepped in front of Ms. Lovett, Detective Reed fishing out his notepad and a pen. Connor would have to remember to get one, if only for appearances.

“Hello, Ms. Lovett,” Connor greeted the short woman. Her hazel eyes were red-rimmed from her previous tears and her wavy red hair that was tied into a loose ponytail was coming loose, stray hairs standing at odds. She tugged on the sleeves of her long-sleeved white button-up, clearly uncomfortable. Detective Reed cleared his throat.

“We just have a few questions for you, ma’am.” Connor was slightly surprised at the politeness in the other’s voice and tone; he didn’t even sound like he was faking it.

Interesting.

“Sure, hun.” Lovett tightened her ponytail and then crossed her arms, looking at the two detectives with a careful look. “Even though I’ll bet your friends over there have got all I know already. But; sure hun. Ask away.” She added a bit of snark to her voice and Connor could see her stress levels rising the longer they stood there. 

“Just making sure we have everything, ma’am. Gotta be thorough in these types of cases.” Detective Reed explained and that made Lovett’s stress levels fall a few percents. She cleared her throat, no doubt from the mucus that was gathering from crying earlier.

“What do you need to know?” Lovett questioned and Connor was the one who spoke up this time.

“Can you tell us everything that happened last night?” He asked and the short woman sighed through her nose. 

“Don’t you police types have a synopsis or some shit of what you’re gettin’ into when you go to a crime scene?” She snarked and when neither detective responded she just released a heavy breath.

“Look, I usually serve some pretty decent people, I run a tight ship here. You cause even a lil’ bit of trouble and you’re out.” Detective Reed was writing stuff down while Connor nodded along. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“Last night I… I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Some of the patrons were starting to cause a ruckus, but I had assumed it was because one of the kids… Michael I think his name was- it was on his ID- had just turned twenty one. I just guessed the ruckus was from celebrating that.” She shrugged. “I get it; it’s a big deal to be able to drink.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Then they started to get violent.” She whispered and Detective Reed leaned in subconsciously, hand still writing notes even though he wasn’t looking. It was kind of impressive (even if his handwriting was becoming more atrocious than before).

“Violent how?” Detective Reed asked and Lovett shrugged and let her hand wave around the wrecked bar’s interior in lieu of explanation. 

“Started to get fussy with one another, then it turned into full-on brawling. One of the other customers tried to pull one of the kids off the other. He got a fist to the face for that.” Her eyes went far away for a second, before she broke from her train of thought and started to talk again.

“Next thing I knew I was calling the police, though they came a little too late to stop a majority of the damage. Then I was told that the kids were on red ice and that was that. Here I am now, stuck in my own bar, answering questions I’ve been asked a couple million times now.” She glared at the detectives, hazel eyes rimmed red burning with a fierceness that wasn’t present before. Detective Reed flipped his notepad closed and nodded at the middle-aged woman.

“Thanks for your time, ma’am. This’ll all be solved soon enough.” He promised and the redheaded woman only let out a small “I hope so” in response. The partners walked away from Ms. Lovett after exchanging goodbyes, it all being fake politeness.

Once the two detectives had wandered away from the woman and from the crowd of officers, Detective Reed turned to Connor.

“What d’you think? You think it’s that cut an’ fucking dry?” The detective questioned and Connor rolled the thought around in his head. He considered for a moment before he responded.

“I don’t have the full capacity to make a complete scene without investigating the crime scene.” He said and Detective Reed nodded his head and started to make his way back towards the fray. 

“You coming, smartass?” The detective asked with no small amount of snark and Connor just sighed and started walking towards the crime scene once again, his partner right by his side.

Finally, Connor thought, he could do what he was made for; investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, something is happening (not much though).

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? ideas? questions? let me know!!


End file.
